


all you have to do is blink your eyes (and the years go by like that)

by orphan_account



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 14:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17265704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: So many memories flash through his mind, and it’s the strangest thing: they’re so clear, it’s like he can see them happening, right in front of his eyes.(Roger remembers some moments with Freddie)





	all you have to do is blink your eyes (and the years go by like that)

He’s on his way to Garden Lodge when he gets the call.  Phoebe is on the line, saying:  “He’s gone.” 

 

Freddie is  _ gone _ .

 

It doesn't seem possible, but it’s true.

 

It doesn't feel real, not yet.  

 

Hours later, when he’s home, he sits on his front step and so many memories flash through his mind, and it’s the strangest thing: they’re so clear, it’s like he can see them happening, right in front of his eyes. 

 

\--

 

Fred is in their stall in Kensington Market, holding up some truly awful sweater, insisting it’s a treasure:

 

“Look at this  _ beautiful _ garment!  This is going to fetch a fortune!”

 

Brian rolls his eyes as Roger takes it from Freddie, and tries it on, strutting back and forth in the little space to show it off.  Brian groans and Freddie claps his hands in approval. 

 

“Rog, I think you should keep that one: it looks marvelous,”  Freddie strokes the sleeve of the sweater, thoughtfully, and adds:  “I may borrow it sometimes, though.” 

 

Roger just shrugs in agreement to this proposal.  They share most of their clothes, anyway.  

 

\--

 

It’s almost showtime and he’s standing with Freddie backstage.  They’re performing their little ritual that no one else ever wants to be around for:  screeching back and forth in loud, high-pitched voices, to warm up and get rid of their nervousness.  The sounds they are making could never qualify as musical notes, but for whatever reason, it’s better than any other vocal exercise they could embark on. 

 

Someone new to the crew walks by them and looks at them as if they’ve gone mad, and they look at each other and fall into a fit of laughter, leaning on each other and giggling until they catch their breath. 

 

They’re  _ definitely _ mad, but they’re mad together.  

 

They always had a sense of humor between them that was uniquely their own.  

 

\-- 

 

The four of them are backstage after a show, in the dressing room that they share, and Freddie’s mourning the loss of a whistle that he threw away, and Roger’s quick to interject:  

 

“You threw my best fucking pair of maracas away on the first day.   Great sounding maracas!” He wanders over to his friend and mimics Fred tossing them off the stage, his arm rising and falling dramatically, pitching the ghost maracas over Freddie’s head.  

 

“Actually, they were wonderful.  I must say, I’m sorry,” Freddie says, and Roger just gives him a  _ look,  _ aiming for furious, but falling far short.  

 

Somehow he can never stay mad at Freddie, not for long.

 

\--

 

They’re in the recording studio, and Roger pauses his drumming in order to give Brian a nasty look.  He wants Brian to play faster, and he keeps  _ slowing down.   _

 

“I’m trying to slow it down, a little,” Brian tells him.

 

“Well it doesn’t  _ need _ slowing down, it’s -- god, it’s creeping at the moment!”

 

He looks up at Freddie and John, for some support, but they’re laughing, the  _ fuckers _ , and all Freddie says is “take two”

 

Brian makes crying noises, as if to imitate Roger, and god, Roger really _hates_ all of them.

 

But the thing is, he loves them more than he hates them.  

 

\--

 

They’re in the middle of a performance and Freddie’s voice has given out -- given up completely.  He just stares at Roger and Brian, with a horrified expression on his face. They pick up the vocals where Freddie can’t, carrying the songs along until the end, and he can tell Freddie’s mad at himself, but none of them are mad: Freddie’s human, as much as he would like not to be.  

 

They always take care of each other.  

 

\-- 

 

They’re sitting in the living area in Garden Lodge, in front of the coffee table.  It’s hours past midnight and the Scrabble board in front of them is almost full. Jim’s long since fallen asleep on the couch behind them, blissfully unaware of the antics of his husband and his wild friend.  

 

They count up their points, and Roger shrieks, almost knocking over his cup of tea as he points at Freddie, accusingly.  

 

“You  _ bastard _ , I can’t believe you won again; I thought I had this one!”

 

Freddie leans back and laughs at him -- one of those wonderful, free laughs that only those he’s comfortable around get to see.  “You’re simply no match for me, darling. One of these days you’re just going to have to face that fact.”

 

Roger grumbles and shoves him and stalks off to the kitchen.  “I’m making more tea. We’re playing another round.”

 

When Roger finally wins, it’s somewhere close to six in the morning, and he hugs Freddie before he finally leaves to go home and get some sleep.  

 

\-- 

 

  
It’s the final night of the Magic Tour and Roger’s grinning as Freddie places his crown on Roger’s head.  They’re both laughing, and in this moment it feels like they’re on top of the world.

 

They’re a band that never stops striving for perfection, but all of them can admit that it’s been a nearly perfect night.  

 

Roger braces his arms on Freddie’s shoulders and grins back at him, both of them looking as regal as the name of their band. 

 

It’s such a wonderful moment, but it feels like the end of something

 

(it feels that way because it is.)

 

\--

 

It’s Christmas day and Roger and Brian stand on Freddie’s door, waiting for someone to answer.  They came to drop off a couple of gifts, arriving at the same time without even planning to. It’s Freddie who swings the door open, and pulls them both inside, ushering them quickly down the hall.

  
“You simply  _ must _ see this thing that Jim made for me; it’s marvelous!”  He tells them, and they look at each other and then back at Fred, who is nearly bursting out of his skin with excitement. 

 

It’s the most intricate mountain train set up, winding around part of the living room, and the three of them just stare at it for a couple minutes, taking it in.  

 

Moments later they’re on the floor, where they stay for hours, reveling in something they’d long forgotten: the simple joy of playing with friends.  They’re too old, surely, but it doesn’t seem to matter to any of them. 

 

Jim shakes his head and smiles fondly when he finds them all down on the floor.  

 

Three big, hairy kids.  

 

\--

 

He blinks, and it’s 1992 and he’s on stage, at the end of the night.  He looks from Brian to John, as if checking in: somehow they’re all still standing.  It doesn't feel like it should be possible, but here they are, on their feet.  

 

He steps up to the mic, and leans in, close.

 

“Goodnight Freddie --  we love you!” 


End file.
